Be All My Sins Rememb'red
by Nirav
Summary: Glinda, Elphaba; firsts, lasts, and the ones you never get back. "The tragic famine of words unsaid, hours misspent..."


The worst thing about firsts and lasts was that you never got them back.

Glinda was painfully aware of how wasted her first interactions with Elphaba were; she was determined now, in the face of what was undeniably their last, not to make the same mistake. She stood determinedly only a few steps away from her friend, forcing her attention to narrow to the woman in front of her—not on the heartbreak she still felt about losing Elphaba and Fiyero in one fell swoop; not on the utter disgust she felt for herself and who she had lowered herself to become; not on the steadily increasing sound of marching hunters, creeping ever closer to where they stood. Glinda ignored it all, shoving away fear and pain and heartbreak in an effort to do things right this time.

It was hard to believe the mess that had become of their lives. Or, really, the mess that had become of her life; she supposed the Elphaba's life had been a mess from the moment she popped out of her mother's belly with skin as green as an artichoke. Regardless, though, Glinda felt vehemently that something had gone terribly wrong in fate's plan; good people like Elphaba weren't meant to become villains, and Glinda wasn't supposed to have hurt the people she loved so greatly. Nor was Fiyero meant to be reduced to straw, nor Nessa meant to have a house land on her, nor Boq his body turned to tin. People like the Wizard and Madame Morrible deserved such fates. Not compassionate Elphie, golden-hearted Fiyero, pious Nessa, naïve Boq. Glinda was sure that fate would step in and set things right, and she would wake up years younger, in her single bed at Shiz, able to look across the room to see Elphaba, jackknifed on her mattress, pensive even in her sleep.

Yet there was no moment of magic and repair, and Glinda was still standing across from her friend, her chest tightening as she thought of a life without her best friend. Their months of anger and separation felt like an impossibly wide canyon suddenly; how could she have let such petty anger waste the time they might have had?

Elphaba was speaking now, her voice echoing in Glinda's skull in an almost painful manner. Demands were being made, and Glinda wanted nothing more than to smack Elphie across the head with her wand, knock her unconscious, and run away with her and Fiyero to somewhere safe and simple and quiet. Somewhere without a Wizard and his twisted manipulations, without a prejudiced society and radiating hate; somewhere they could all just sit and talk and reconnect. Somewhere they could all live, because Glinda didn't know how she was going to survive if Elphie didn't.

Instead of kidnapping the stubborn Elphaba and running away to keep her safe—and really, if Glinda thought it through at all, she'd realize that her little wandwork and parlor tricks were no match for Elphie's raw power—Glinda remembered the first interaction she'd had with Elphie. Distaste and distrust and overwhelming shallowness had tainted the first months of their relationship, and now, facing the last few minutes of it, Glinda wished with all her heart for those months back.

Knowing she couldn't have them back, though, she instead agreed to Elphaba's demands. She would stay quiet when Oz vilified Elphaba once more, and would do nothing to dissuade the peoples' asinine notions. She would let Elphaba go, because the world needed a demon to kill, and Elphie was it; because the world needed a golden hero, and Glinda was it; because Elphaba had done all she could to save Oz from itself and failed, and now it would fall to Glinda's skills instead. So she promised, and she cried, and she silently prayed to any deity she could remember the name of—and plenty that she couldn't—to save them.

And then the hunters were there, breaking down the doors and bringing their anger and their hate and their avaricious screams, and Glinda let herself be hidden away. She huddled in her hiding place and put her hands over her ears, eyes shut tightly, but she couldn't block out the one scream, the last thing she heard from her best friend, the last moment of their relationship, s it peaked and then tapered and then disappeared for good.

As the country celebrated beneath her, Glinda stayed afloat in her bubble. From down below, they wouldn't see stoic reserve, as she was helpless to block out memories flooding her mind—not of the last minutes she had with Elphaba, or of Fiyero running away with her, or of their time in the Emerald city. Rather, all she could remember was standing in the courtyard at Shiz and sniffing disdainfully at a girl with unflattering clothes and boring hair and the most appallingly green skin.

Down below, there were bonfires and people dancing, joy and freedom playing across their faces as they found themselves free of the greatest threat the country had known in their lifetimes. Up above, Glinda floated away from the celebrations, thought about how it had felt to waltz through the streets of the Emerald City with her best friend and cried so hard she thought her tears would wash away all the lines and color she was composed of. Because this was one more first Elphaba had brought into her life: the first time she couldn't fix the things she had broken.


End file.
